


lying is the most fun a girl can have

by scarletite



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora is famous, Alternate Universe, Catfish AU (Kinda), F/F, and Catra swears she's being catfished, tinder au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletite/pseuds/scarletite
Summary: Catra buries her head into the pillow. "Well, we can't all run into our dream lesbians at the grocery store.""Have you tried Tinder?"Catra just about chokes on her own saliva, she jerks the pillow away from her face, squinting at Perfuma. "Ack—I'm sorry, did you just tell me to join ahook-upapp?"[AU: Catra gets pushed into downloading Tinder by Perfuma and Scorpia. She matches with what is obviously a catfish, because there is no wayAdora Greyskullwould ever actually use it. The problem is, she actually kind of likes whoever's behind the account.]
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 488





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this post](https://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/109946572482/where-one-person-is-actually-famous-and-sets-up-a)

"Am I pathetic?"

"Uh, wow, okay." Scorpia blinks, sets her phone down. "That's a lot to lead with. You doin' okay, wildcat?"

Catra groans, squeezes Perfuma's dumb throw pillow between her palms like she can strangle the life out of the scratchy hemp cover. "I _mean_ ," she huffs, "do you think there's something wrong with me? Actually, no, don't answer that."

Scorpia chews on her lip. "Okay, yeah. Getting some _reeeal_ negative vibes. Do you need a best friend hug?"

"Shut up! No!" Catra's cheeks burn, and she groans again, digs her claws into the threads of the cushion. Who cares if she destroys it? Perfuma should know better than to have such tacky furniture, there's no way she can take the _Save Planet Earth_ embroidery seriously. "I just, I mean—you and Perfuma got together so quickly. And Kyle and Rogelio. Fuck, even Entrapta and _Hordak_ , and don't even get me started on _that_ hell couple. Is there something wrong with me?"

"Oh. _Oh_ ," Scorpia blinks, then her eyes widen. "Are you…lonely?"

She scoffs, ignoring the odd lump in her throat. "No, I'm not _lonely."_

The way her voice squeaks doesn't do her any favors.

"It's okay to be lonely! I know I was, before Perfuma came along." It's so Scorpia, to admit to something so personal with no shame, almost flippant about it. Her smile remains bright, undeterred as always, despite the worried look she's pinning Catra with. "Being single is scary sometimes. It's like living without a safety net. It's nice to come home to somebody every night, or wake up to them every morning. I don't think it's bad to want that for yourself."

Perfuma picks exactly that moment to wander back in, an armful of lotus root chips tucked under her arm. "I agree," she says, leaning down to place a peck on the corner of Scorpia's mouth, then settling on the sofa beside her. "It's natural to want somebody special in your life. Have you tried meeting anybody?"

She buries her head into the pillow, hissing. "Well, we can't all run into our dream lesbians at the grocery store."

"Have you tried Tinder?"

Catra just about chokes on her own saliva, she jerks the pillow away from her face, squinting at Perfuma. " _Ack_ —I'm sorry, did you just tell me to join a _hook-up_ app?"

"It's not a hook-up app," Perfuma defends. "I've met some nice people on there. We're going hiking with a lovely couple we met on there last week."

"Okay, wow. So, you're going to a secondary location with people you've never met?" Catra gapes. "Are you _trying_ to get murdered? Because that's how people get murdered. I do _not_ going to be one of those people crying on the news when you go missing."

Scorpia beams at her. "Aw, you would cry if we went missing?"

She _doesn't_ blush. "Is that all you took away from that?"

"Spinnerella and Netossa seem like very lovely people," Perfuma says. "Besides, Scorpia is coming."

Scorpia wraps an arm out Perfuma's shoulders. "I'm the muscle."

"You're more than the muscle to me, sweetheart."

The look Scorpia gives her in response is like the hung the sky, stars, and moon.

"Ugh," Catra scrunches her nose, looking away; it feels like intruding on a private moment, looking at the two of them like that. It makes her stomach curl with resentment and jealousy, too, and then guilt, all of it a tangle of knots in her stomach. "Well, whatever. I don't think I'm going to find the love of my life on an app."

"You don't know until you try!"

Perfuma nods. "Give it a try. What's the worse that can happen?"

"Besides being axe-murdered in the woods?"

"Just think about it?" Perfuma offers.

"We want to see you happy, wildcat," Scorpia agrees. "App or no app. Maybe you need to put yourself out there."

She squeezes the pillow hard, digs her claws into it until she hears some threads snap, and ignores Perfuma's retaliatory screech. "Yeah, whatever. I'll think about it."

* * *

It takes her less than an hour after coming home to her cold, empty apartment before she caves.

It's simple, in premise: login to her rarely-used Facebook, set up a profile, swipe for yes or no. Easy.

In practice, Catra is left at a loss when it comes to setting up a profile.

It's automatically pulled her profile picture from Facebook, a dumb one from her twenty-third birthday: it's of her, blackout-drunk and throwing a peace sign from over Scorpia's shoulder, a party-hat with cat-prints crooked on her head. She doesn't bother changing it, because not only is it hilarious, but also, well, if they can't handle her at her worst or whatever. It also feels less desperate, somehow.

But she agonizes over her description for a lot longer. Probably too long. Eventually, she gives in, and just settles on a few cat emojis and the words _even_ _worse in person._

It's straightforward, though, once that's done and she's swiping.

It's like the entire population of Fright City is zooming by at light speed, at the mercy of her thumb. There's something mindless, cathartic almost, about it, too. 

There's a surprising number of men that pop up, considering her settings are women-only, and Catra scowls and swipes them away each time. There's a lot of familiar faces, too, people she swipes away with a grimace: Perfuma's friends, Scorpia's friends, people she used to go to college with, people she works with, and even people she recognizes from the McDonalds across the street. She ignores all of them.

(Well, most of them—she does swipe right on Lonnie from work, but that's only because she knows it'd piss her off.)

It's almost like a game, anyway: snap judgements made on a few pictures, a description if she can be bothered to read it, and on the rare occasion on the linked Spotify songs (those usually end in swipes left, because, ew, the _taste_ of some of these people).

By the time she peels her eyes away to check the time, it's almost midnight.

She falls asleep that night, certain it's a waste of time and she's no closer to finding her 'special someone', but strangely content.

* * *

Thankfully, her friends are fluent enough in the language of Catra to know to leave her alone for a few weeks about it. They check in, they see each other often, and sometimes Perfuma and Scorpia exchange these looks when they think she isn't looking that tells her they _want_ to ask, but they definitely know better than to do it. So, she gets a blissful while of radio silence, just herself and her phone, and the entire population of Fright City that she's rapidly working her way through.

And she is working her way through the city, at least as far as Tinder is concerned. It seems like everybody is either secretly after a threesome with their boyfriend, just looking for friends, absurdly lame or just downright _boring_. The conversations she's had with her matches have been awkward, too, in the way that all new relationships are: bland, boring, and enough to lose interest after the first few messages. Nobody's kept her attention for more than a few hours, max. It's a doomed search, as far as she's concerned, but the attention is somewhat gratifying.

Unfortunately, her relative peace can't last forever.

That much is proven when Scorpia drags her out of the office for lunch under the pretense of a 'best friend lunch'.

"Ugh, I know you want to ask," Catra grumbles, watching the nervous, twitchy energy Scorpia's putting out as they wait for their food. It looks ridiculous on someone of Scorpia's build. "At least let me get halfway through my lunch before you make me wanna hurl it all back up again."

Scorpia blinks a little too quickly. "I'm not—I don't—I'm not asking about anything?"

She rolls her eyes, but decides to let it pass without comment.

Their food arrives quickly, and true to form, Catra gets exactly halfway through her fries and her burger before Scorpia's leg is bouncing so hard that her soda sloshes a little.

Glaring, Catra sets her burger down, waits.

"So," Scorpia says, eventually.

She swallows a fry whole. "So."

"So?"

Catra's eyes narrow. "Just say it already."

" _So_ ," Scorpia dares to grin at her. "Did you download it?"

"Ugh. Is this really the only reason we came here?"

"Of course not! I missed you," Scorpia says, easy as breathing.

Catra will deny to _her dying day_ the warmth that blossoms in her chest at the words. 

"Idiot, you saw me yesterday."

"Yeah, but that was yesterday!" Scorpia replies. "But also, y'know, I was wondering—how's the search going?"

Catra huffs a sigh. "It's whatever."

"A 'good' whatever or a 'bad' whatever?"

"A 'whatever' whatever," Catra shrugs, nonchalant, taking another heaping bite of her burger. "What do you want me to say? Love is bullshit and I'm destined to die alone."

Scorpia reels back a little. "Wow, yeah, see? There's that negativity again. C'mon, wildcat! You're amazingly awesome, you hear me? You can't give up, it's only been a few weeks."

"It's been twenty-four years."

"You've gotta think more positive," Scorpia replies. "Oh, oh, how about this? Daily affirmations! I do them every morning. You can tell yourself things you like about yourself, things you're grateful for, things that make you happy, anything. I'm telling you, it'll really turn your mindset around."

Catra couldn't roll her eyes any harder if she tried. "You've been spending too much time with Perfuma. You're about one more kale smoothie away from taking up yoga or meditation."

Scorpia pauses. "Uh, well—"

"Oh, God. Is it too late for you to break up with her?"

She makes a dreamy sound. "I just, I love her so much."

"Ugh, disgusting," Catra reaches out, shoves a fistful of fries into Scorpia's mouth to wipe the starstruck expression off her face. As she chokes and splutters, Catra looks away with a sigh. She curls her fingers into a fist. "Look, I'm not…good with this whole thing. It's just, everyone always says that you have to try and put yourself out there but—what if nobody comes along?"

Scorpia chases the fries down with a chug of soda, then reaches out. Her hands are a little greasy, but Catra allows it. She doesn't look at her, but one of her ears tips towards Scorpia as she speaks. "Sometimes, taking the risk is worth it."

"You don't know that."

"I don't," Scorpia agrees, and Catra wilts a little. The hand over hers closes, squeezes her own. "But I know you. I know you're a good friend and a good person, and that there's got to be someone out there who'll see the same things in you that I do."

And Catra won't cry, she won't, but—

But, God, for all the stupid and bad things she's done in her life, she doesn't know how she's managed to earn someone like Scorpia.

"Thanks," she says, soft.

Scorpia beams back. "I've got your back, wildcat."

* * *

She tries.

She does.

Catra even manages to go on a few dates, but they're few and far between, and none of them go anywhere.

She gets a few handholds, a couple of goodnight hugs, and even the odd peck, but nothing that she decides she wants to pursue.

It's on the back of one of these failed dates—decent conversation, a cute enough girl, but just no _spark_ —that she kicks off her boots, drops her keys by the door, and honestly debates whether to just go prowl up and down the home improvement store aisle in the hopes of magic-ing a cute lesbian girlfriend.

Her apartment is still, quiet, but for Melog who quickly winds himself around her ankles with screaming cries.

"Hey, Melog. Do you think I'm destined to die alone?"

" _Mrrroowr."_

"Yeah, that's fair."

Somewhere between giving him a can of wet food to stop his screaming and unmatching with her recent date, Catra ends up curled on her sofa and mindlessly swiping again. She doesn't really pay any mind, movements mechanical. Just sighs, swipes left on them all without really looking.

That is, until she gets to a familiar face—

"Pfft, yeah, right," Catra says, squinting at a far too familiar set of blue eyes and blonde hair. "Like Adora Grayskull is really gonna be on Tinder."

Melog jumps up onto the sofa beside her, then crawls onto her lap with a purr.

"She is cute though, right?"

If Catra were younger, Adora is exactly the type of person that she would have had a poster of on her wall. It would have had an honorary place next to her Michelle Rodriguez poster. Adora's music is amazing, that much is true. Not Catra's style, exactly, but that's not the point. Truth is, teenage Catra would have been drooling after her because she's _gorgeous._ Even adult Catra can't quite deny she'd happily let Adora fold her in half.

There's only a single photo. But the one that this catfish has chosen is undeniably a good one, probably ripped right off Instagram. It's Adora, the sunset and a beach behind her, eyes crinkled from the force of her laughter. A beautiful, candid shot that she knows probably has a million likes by now.

The bio, too, leaves a bit to be desired, though not because it's blank.

Her brows scrunch as she reads the lines: _I_ _collect swords and I know how to use them_ and _the farmers' market is life_ with a bunch of little emojis. 

And it's dumb, there's no way it's her, especially with a bio like that, but—

She swipes right, before she has a chance to change her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Catra has almost forgotten all about the catfish by the time she goes to work the next day. It's a blip on her radar, honestly.

Besides, she has bigger things to worry about than a fake account, considering Hordak has abruptly decided to leave on a 'soul-searching quest' with Entrapta in tow. Somehow, he's decided foisting off his job on her is a great test of responsibility. Like she hasn't always done half his job anyway, while he just messes around on his computer all day. Honestly, the only difference is she has a title and a pay rise to back it up.

"Morning, Catra!" Scorpia chirps from her desk as Catra wanders in, a half-hour late and an iced coffee in hand.

She grumbles something back, dumps a tea on Scorpia's desk, and then wanders over to her own, yawning widely.

Catra practically throws herself into her chair, dumping her bag on her desk. She digs around inside for a charger, then hooks it up to her phone. The screen is dead and blank, because she passed out on the sofa last night and forgot to charge it. She drums her fingers while she waits, sucking at her iced coffee.

"Late night?" Scorpia wiggles her eyebrows—or tries to, and fails hilariously. "You had a date, right?"

She smothers a groan. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"That bad?"

Sucking a loud sip from her straw, she sighs. "Just 'meh'."

Her phone lights up, and after a moment, a stream of notifications begin to come through, all with the same name. "Jesus, how many times did you text me?"

"You didn't reply," Scorpia says, sadly. "I thought you might have overslept."

"I forgot to charge my phone," she defends, scrolling past the twenty notifications of texts from Scorpia to make sure she hasn't missed anything. There's nothing else, besides a few emails and a—

Oh. That's interesting.

She absently replies to Scorpia's small talk, but she's more focused on unlocking her phone as quick as possible and pulling up the chat.

**Adora [8:31AM]  
** Hey! :)

Catra's eyebrow twitches.

Of all the things she could say, all the opening lines or moves—

**Catra [10:05AM]**

That's what you're going with?

There's no reply immediately, and honestly she doesn't expect one. It's how a lot of her conversations on Tinder go. 

"So Perfuma and I went on that hike with Spinnerella and Netossa, and they were super cool! I mean, Netossa was a little scary, especially when Spinnerella rolled her ankle and I had to help her limp back to her car. But, y'know, she was really nice about it afterwards! I think you'd like them."

She dumps her phone on the desk, logs into her computer. "Yeah, no thanks."

"C'mon, wildcat," Scorpia pries. "It might be good for you, getting out and meeting new people."

"I've done enough of that for a lifetime already. Not down to be a third wheel again." She scowls as she opens her emails, already full to the brim with notifications—honestly, _fuck_ Hordak and his soul-searching bullshit. "I'll pass, seriously."

Scorpia sighs, shakes her head. But she doesn't argue. "Well, if you change your mind…"

"Uh-huh."

Catra is already elbow-deep in emails, mostly full of sarcasm and 'per my last email' shit that makes her want to smash her keyboard, when her phone buzzes on the desk. She doesn't think twice, opens it up—right back on the chat with not-Adora, and a brand new message.

**Adora [10:22AM]**

What's wrong with it?

She huffs, ignores the look the Scorpia shoots her, and taps a quick response.

**Catra [10:23AM]**

Seriously?

As if the real Adora is lame enough to start off with 'hey'

This time, not-Adora's response is immediate.

**Adora [10:23AM]**

Not sure if I should be offended or happy that you think I'm not lame

But also, what do you mean 'the real Adora'?

She rolls her eyes.

**Catra [10:24AM]**

Well, you're obviously a catfish

I mean

Adora Greyskull isn't really going to use Tinder

There's a long wait for the next message, long enough that she locks her phone and goes back to blasting her coworkers. She figures she's won, that she'll be unmatched or ignored. Honestly, that works for her. She's not even sure why she swiped right in the first place. But—

**Adora [10:28AM]**

Sorry, I had to google what a catfish is

Is it weird I think they're kind of cute?

Catra actually, audibly, snorts.

Scorpia is definitely watching her now, and Catra holds her phone self-consciously closer, spins her chair around so she doesn't have to make eye contact with her. 

**Adora [10:29AM]**

Oh, wait

My friend Bow says it's not that kind of catfish

You think I'm not me?

**Catra [10:29AM]**

Were you dropped on your head at birth?

I mean, if you really were Adora, that could explain the dumb hair poof

**Adora [10:30AM]**

Probably

Also, rude! What's wrong with my hair?

**Catra [10:30AM]**

*Adora's hair

You could be a middle-aged, balding man for all I know

And it's just kind of goofy

There's another long pause.

**Adora [10:33AM]**

I'm definitely not bald

Although my friends do say if I keep tying my ponytail so tight I will be by the time I'm forty :(

**Catra [10:34AM]**

Yeah, sure

Listen to your friends, catfish

**Adora [10:35AM]**

I'm not a catfish :(

Why would I pretend to be me?

I'm Adora!

Catra scoffs, is about to send a suitably scathing message.

Scorpia, however, has other plans. "Don't we have a meeting soon, wildcat?"

She jerks away from her phone, whirls back to look at Scorpia, who's standing by the edge of her desk. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

Scorpia is beaming, a knowing look in her eyes. "Okay."

Catra shakes her head. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Ugh. Just—" she quickly taps a response, then locks her phone and slips it into her pocket. "Let's go. I'm done."

**Catra [10:49AM]**

Yeah, sure thing. And I'm a Nigerian Prince.

Better luck next time, catfish.

* * *

Catra is riding the bus home, because who needs a car in the city, when her phone buzzes.

At first, she thinks it might be Scorpia checking in, to make sure she got on the bus okay. She does that a lot, in that overbearing way that Catra pretends she hates but (although she'd never admit it) she kind of loves. Scorpia's always trying to bribe her into letting her drive her home, but she likes the independence. Besides, it's a half-hour trip that she can use to listen to music too-loud and take in all the weirdos that live in Fright City with her.

But this time, it isn't Scorpia—although Catra does sent her a text to let her know, anyway, just to preempt it.

**Adora [6:50PM]**

Are you a cat? Because you're purrfect.

It's dumb and it makes her roll her eyes, but, after the absolute shit show of her day today, it makes some of the stress ease out of her shoulders.

Still, when she doesn't immediately reply, she gets another one.

**Adora [7:01PM]**

Okay, how about this one.

Do you like cats? Because I'm feline a connection

Okay, one she can excuse, but two—

She's typed out a response before she can talk herself out of it.

**Catra [7:02PM]**

Cat pick up lines? Really?  
  


**Adora [7:02PM]**

Well, you did say that 'hey' was lame

**Catra [7:03PM]**

That wasn't an invitation to send me bad pick up lines, dumbass

**Adora [7:02PM]**

It actually took me way too long to find cat-related pick up lines

Well, ones that weren't dirty, anyway

**Catra [7:03PM]**

I mean, this is Tinder

And I'm a cat-hybrid lesbian

I think I've heard all the 'pussy' jokes by now

Catra watches the 'typing' bubble pop up and disappear a few times in a row, smirking at her phone screen.

**Catra [7:06PM]**

Cat got your tongue? 

**Adora [7:07PM]**

You're the worst.

**Catra [7:07PM]**

Clearly you didn't read my bio then

I'm worse in person, remember?

**Adora [7:08PM]**

Somehow, I believe that

Catra laughs, and locks her phone without replying.

* * *

It must be serendipity or something, because when Catra flicks on her television while she works through a flavorless TV dinner, there's a familiar face looking back at her.

The first face she notices is Double Trouble's, which she would have to be literally stupid to not know. They are the pride of the city—or the scourge, depending on your perspective. But their talk-show, _Trouble Time_ , is a big name in the industry. Like, not Oprah or Ellen level, but definitely up there. Probably one of the few reasons celebrities even both visiting Fright City, unless you really like rundown apartments or the Spire—which is basically their own knock-off Space Needle.

Anyway, Double Trouble is sitting cross-legged on the top of a desk, practically oozing smugness as they look at their guest.

Their very familiar, very blonde guest. 

"So, I hear you've been working on something new?"

Adora gives an awkward laugh. "I'm always working on something new. I'm a workaholic, according to my friends."

Their eyes light up. "Well, in that case, is there anything you can share with us?"

"I, uh, haven't really finalized anything yet. It's all works in progress?"

"Well," Double Trouble leans in a little closer. "Care to give us a sneak peak? Just a small exclusive, between us friends."

Adora hesitates, her smile undeterred but her eyes flicking to something off-camera. She seems a little nervous. But, she must agree with whatever's on the other end, because after a moment she nods. "Okay, sure. There is something I can share, I think. But I might need some help?"

"Fabulous," Double Trouble claps their hands. "Stay tuned, Troublemakers. We'll be right back with an Adora Greyskull exclusive, just for you."

And then it cuts to commercials.

Catra swallows down a forkful of bland, too-squishy spaghetti. Then, she blindly grabs for her phone.

**Catra [10:35PM]**

Blink twice if DT is holding you hostage

The response is almost immediate.

**Adora [10:36PM]**

They're…nice

**Catra [10:36PM]**

'Nice,' huh?

**Adora [10:37PM]**

Nice adjacent, maybe

But they're not terrible, off screen

**Catra [10:37PM]**

Sounds like something a hostage would say

Anyway, shouldn't you be getting ready for your 'exclusive' or something?

Or are you going to finally admit you're a catfish?

**Adora [10:38PM]**

It's prerecorded

I'm in my hotel, trying not to eat all the snacks

Like, $10 for a bag of M&Ms? This is extortion

Catra snorts.

**Catra [10:38PM]**

Pretty sure the real Adora is making bank

I doubt she cares how much a bag of candy costs

**Adora [10:39PM]**

It's the principle!

Wait, do you still think I'm faking it?

Catra doesn't deign that message with a reply, because the commercials are over.

The TV cuts back to _Trouble Time_ with a flourish, and Double Trouble's desk is nowhere to be seen. However, Double Trouble is there, smiling magnanimously at the camera. "Well, Troublemakers. For the first time, in a Trouble Time exclusive, I present: Adora Greyskull and her new song, _Make Them Gold._ "

And then it cuts to Adora.

She's standing under a spotlight, eyes on her feet and hands clenched tightly around a microphone. 

Behind her, there's a purple-haired girl beginning to play a keyboard, the synths light and bubbly, and a dark-skinned boy beginning to tap out a swelling rhythm on a drum kit. 

A moment, two, of Adora's head bopping and her toe tapping gently.

And then, she opens her mouth—

_"Can you tell me what to have and what to hold, if you never take the way on your own—"_

And it's stunning, she can't deny it, Catra's blown away. It's not the heavy drums and screeching guitars she usually favors, but it's undeniably good. 

Catra watches through the entire performance, microwaved spaghetti forgotten. Even Melog bites and nips at her wrist, until she relents into petting them absentmindedly between the ears, she's fixated on it. On Adora—who's attractive, _god yes_ , but who's _magnetic_ as a performer. And she understands, really, just why she's a household name. 

When it's over, and Adora's panting and smiling in front of the microphone, she almost wants to clap along with the audience.

It's stupid, really, but Catra unlocks her phone.

There's a few more messages from not-Adora, but she ignores them, types out a new message before she can stop herself.

**Catra [10:59PM]**

That new song's kind of alright, I guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone curious, the song adora sings is [make them gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pdrnVf6zCE) by chvrches


	3. Chapter 3

**Adora [5:50AM]**

Hey, so, I have a question

It’s been about a week since she and not-Adora have started talking—well, on and off, anyway. 

Although Catra still harbors the idea that she could be a balding, middle aged man or some teen messing around for kicks, she can’t deny that talking to not-Adora is, well, kind of fun? She’s a little oblivious, a lot forgetful, and so determined to prove she’s ‘real’ that it’s actually kind of annoying. But, to be quite honest, it’s weirdly endearing.

They have a routine, now—basically, Adora won’t leave her alone, because she’s apparently just that stubborn, so Catra just makes a game out of trying to piss her off enough to get her to shut up for a few hours.

So, when she wakes up to Adora’s message, a few hours after she sent it, her first reaction is to roll her eyes.

**Catra [9:01AM]**

Why are you even awake before six

She sees her message move to ‘read’ almost immediately, and the little text bubble pop up and disappear multiple times. Adora, as she’s learned over the last few days, either spouts off a thousand messages a minute or can’t string words together. Amusing, considering she’s supposed to be a song writer.

Catra drags herself slowly out of bed, yawning.

She doesn’t have work today, thankfully. So, her morning routine consists mostly of trying not to drown in the shower, brushing her teeth with her eyes closed, and trying not to trip over Melog as he winds himself around her ankles. 

By the time she’s done, she’s got a few messages waiting.

**Adora [9:05AM]**

Why do you think someone would pretend to be me?

Catra rolls her eyes a little, because _really_ , fake-Adora should know exactly why. But, she carries on with reading the other messages, scrolling with her thumb while she dumps wet food into a bowl and Melog yowls.

**Adora [9:06AM]**

I mean, why not someone else? 

I’m not special or anything

Also, sorry, my friends think I’m physically incapable of sleeping in?

I just like to work out early, it’s a good way to start your day!

Catra is a little struck at the thought of Adora, the real Adora, working out. 

Because, the whole thing about putting a poster of her on the wall? Well, Adora is, objectively speaking, completely stacked. Like, and she can’t emphasize this enough, Catra would absolutely let her do whatever she wanted and say ‘thank you’ after. 

So? Yeah. 

It takes a moment, and she has to physically shake the thought of a gorgeous blonde, sweat dripping and muscles flexing, out from her brain before she an even begin to compute an answer.

**Catra [9:15AM]**

Are you blind??

Because Adora Greyskull is hot and famous?

Literally anyone would be all over her if she were actually on here

There’s that speech bubble again, popping up and disappearing, again and again.

Finally, Adora replies.

**Adora [9:17AM]**

Apparently???

But I think you’re giving me too much credit

You’re my only match on here

**Catra [9:18AM]**

Yeah, because I’m the only one dumb enough to talk to a catfish, apparently

**Adora [9:18AM]**

Seriously?

I’m! Not! A! Catfish!

**Catra [9:19AM]**

Sounds fake but okay 

**Adora [9:19AM]**

You are actually the worst

There’s a string of angry emoji faces.

Her lip quirks, despite herself.

**Catra [9:20AM]**

If you can’t handle me at my worst

**Adora [9:20AM]**

Don’t Marilyn Monroe me

She just sends back a smirking cat emoji and pockets her phone.

* * *

Despite the fact that she’s being catfished, Catra is still giving this dating thing a try.

Unfortunately, the dates post-Adora are even worse than pre-Adora—and, wow, she really _shouldn’t_ be categorizing her life pre- and post- catfish, that’s a red flag and a half.

It’s not even that they’re that bad, though. It’s just, it’s all shallow, surface-level stuff. The awkward ‘get to know you’ phase that she hates. Like, she’d much rather be curled up at home with Melog, roasting not-Adora for thinking lacrosse is a real sport.

In fact, it’s kind of unbearable, actually.

So, when her phone buzzes in her pocket for probably the tenth time in short succession—because goddamnit, it’s one of those ‘spam Catra ‘til she replies’ kind of days, apparently—she abandons all pretense of listening to some story about a sorority her date used to be in.

“Look, Cassandra,” the girl’s face pinches and, yup, she’s definitely got that wrong. “Thanks for dinner. I should probably get going.”

Her plate is still half-full. Cassie’s? Claire’s? It’s barely touched.

Her eyes flick down, then back up to Catra’s. She opens her mouth, sucks in a deep breath, and then—

She must see something in Catra’s eyes, because her shoulders dip a little. And she looks so defeated, for a moment, that Catra actually feels a little bad. Just a little.

“Yeah, sure.”

Her tail twitches uncertainly behind her. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She shrugs. “Not your type?”

She feels a little on the backfoot, but she doesn’t let it show. “Yeah, something like that.”

Her date makes no motion to stand, just watches Catra with something in her eyes she can’t read. Like she can see straight through her. And she makes a concerted effort to still her tail, keep her shoulders square and ears forward, even as she reaches into her pocket and drops a few bills on the table.

“It’s on me.” She hovers, for a moment. “Have a good night.”

The girl watches her for a moment, then shakes her head, reaches out to take a long sip of wine. It leaves a dark red smear on the rim of the glass, a pretty color, but she barely glances at it. “Thanks, Catra.”

“Thanks, uh—”

The girl gives her a wry smile, picks up the stack of bills and flips through them. “Clarissa.”

“Right.”

She feels unbearably awkward, she’s not even sure why she’s exiting so abruptly. But, well, what’s done is done. Catra gives her another second or two, then turns and leaves.

She gets about two steps out the door of the restaurant before she has her phone in her hand, and she’s already sending a dozen middle-finger emojis before she even reads not-Adora’s messages.

* * *

“You’ve been awfully happy lately,” Perfuma says, when she’s at their house that afternoon. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that before.”

Caught, Catra looks up from her phone. There’s a message from Adora on her screen—something meaningless, complaining about how her dog apparently chewed up her friend’s shoes and now she’s being extorted for more—but she can’t quite hide the amused smirk.

“Shut up, I’m not smiling,” she scoffs.

Scorpia grins at her. “It’s all about the eyes, wildcat.”

“They are the window to the soul,” Perfuma agrees. “And yours is looking particularly radiant lately.”

She squints at her. “I don’t know what kind of hippy shit—”

“Did you meet someone?”

Her first instinct is denial, because _no_ , all her dates have been turning to shit. “No,” she huffs, ears back. “Tinder is stupid. I don’t even know how you idiots talked me into it.”

If they even notice her scathing tone, they don’t react to it.

Damn it, when did she lose her edge?

“She must be something, to make you look like that,” Scorpia says. “And, I mean, you’ve been glued to your phone for, what, like a week now?”

Catra flushes to the roots of her ear. “What does that mean?”

Scorpia tilts her head. “ _Weeeell_. Like, normally you don’t even pick it up, y’know? I usually have to send you five texts before you reply to me. But you’re always texting now.”

“Shut up, I am not.” Catra clutches her phone to her chest. “It’s not my fault you send me twelve texts a minute if I so much as go to the bathroom without running it by you. What? Do you think I’ll have a stroke and fall in if you don’t check up on me?”

The look on Scorpia’s face, the slight blush, is enough to tell Catra that that’s _exactly_ what Scorpia thinks.

“Ugh.” Disgusted, she slips her phone into her hoodie pocket. “Whatever. I just—I think I...made a friend or something.”

Both Perfuma and Scorpia light up.

She feels her cheeks burn even more, wants to recoil a little—because it feels worse, somehow, to admit she’s made a friend than that she’s met anybody. Because she’s prickly, always has been. Her friendship is hard won, layered in barbs and traps as a self-defense mechanism, and she knows it.

She can’t remember the last time she made a friend of her own volition, not as a ‘friend of a friend’.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Perfuma smiles. “What is she like?”

She feels her phone buzz against her stomach, will deny that she feels the itch to check it immediately. Will deny the way her hand jerks, minutely, before she settles it back to her folded knee, digging her claws in to stop herself from moving. 

“A complete moron,” she hedges on, because it’s easier than saying ‘a person faking being a celebrity’ and trying to explain just why she’s still talking to her. “I convinced her jellyfish was a dessert the other day.”

The two of them exchange a look.

“Wow, she sounds—”

Perfuma quickly interjects, “Lovely!”

Catra downright snorts. “I wouldn’t say that. She’s a human disaster, by the sounds of things. And she won’t stop sending me stupid _cat_ puns, like I haven’t heard _those_ a million times.”

Scorpia whispers (or at least tries to) something that sound suspiciously like, _that’s pawsitively adorable_.

She bares her teeth, just a little.

“Well, we’re glad to hear you’re making friends,” Perfuma says, ever the mediator. “Have the two of you met up yet?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Why not?”

“Because she—” _is actually_ _a catfish?_ “doesn’t live in Fright City.”

They blink. “Where’s she from?”

She scratches in the back of her brain, trying to remember where not-Adora said she actually lived—when she’s not in town to get harassed on TV by people like Double Trouble, anyway. Well, the real Adora, that is. She still has a pet theory that the catfish is actually that cute barista from Starbucks who’s been giving her sex-eyes for the last week.

“Brightmoon?”

It comes out as more of a question, but—

“Oh, wow!” Scorpia exclaims. “But that’s _hours_ away! I didn’t think you could match from that far.”

“She was here for work.”

“She must be something! A big shot, to be traveling all this way!”

“I guess.”

“What’s she like? Is she nice? Is she pretty?” Scorpia presses. “Does she like waffles or pancakes? Ooh, how does she feel about scorpios? Would she go on a hike with us, I mean, if she was here?”

Catra feels the headache building. “I don’t—”

“Is she coming back soon? Do you want to her to?”

“I’m not—”

“What’s her star sign? Is she a Cancer? She sounds like a Cancer.”

Catra feels herself flushing, but mouth opening and closing, brain racing.

But she’s used to Scorpia, her rapid-fire questions and her inability to see lines drawn in the sand. Not only do they work together, but they’ve somehow gone three years without Catra killing her. She can tolerate her. Mostly.

No, surprisingly, it’s Perfuma who throws her over the edge.

The question is innocuous enough, basic, but—

“What’s her name?”

Catra snaps, tone sharp, ears back and practically hissing. “I thought you asked me here for dinner, not an interrogation!”

The two of them flinch, just a little.

She hunches her shoulders a little, defensively, and looks away.

“Of course,” Perfuma says, after a too long moment. Her voice is understanding, gentle. “Would you like to help me make the pie?”

And she hates how bad she feels, the guilt that curls in her chest already. But, when she looks up at Scorpia and Perfuma, they’re just smiling at her—the kind that tells her they’re used to it, they don’t hold her bad moods against her, and, well, it makes her force herself to take a deep breath.

“Yeah.” She takes another one, in through her nose, out through her mouth. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

She dares to check her phone, once, as Perfuma ladles a steaming stew into a bowl for her.

**Adora [7:43PM]**

What was your favorite class in college? 

Mewsic?

**Adora [7:44PM]**

Get it?

Mewsic?

Her message is followed with about twelve cat emojis, so many that Catra ends up snorting so hard she chokes on her glass of water and Scorpia has to slap her back while she sputters.

**Catra [8:16PM]**

Perish

* * *

When Catra leaves that night, Perfuma is half-asleep in the crook of Scorpia’s shoulder. There’s a movie playing on the TV, softly, and the lights are dimmed as much as they can go. Scorpia herself looks about ten minutes away from passing out. So, quiet as she can, she makes her way towards the door.

“I’m going home, guys.” She looks away. “Thanks for dinner.” 

Catra brushes her tail over Scorpia’s shoulder, Perfuma’s cheek. It’s the closest she will let herself get to an apology, the tidbit of affection all she can spare to give.

They both look up at her, twin, sleepy smiles on their faces.

“Goodnight, wildcat.”

Perfuma murmurs a soft, “Goodnight.”

She leaves, hands in her pockets but her heart warm.

**Author's Note:**

> catra's still a catgirl in this because ??? reasons
> 
> i never write catra's pov tbh, i always write from adora's, but like, i definitely vibe with it. maybe i should write her more often, hm
> 
> you can follow me on [tumblr](https://adorabottoms.tumblr.com/)


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